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So, gentle readers. I finally did it. I finally read The Da Vinci Code. Also known as The Big Book of Act Breaks. Look at it for great examples of exactly when to interrupt the action in order to require your audience to keep going. He pulls you through the story as if you’d gotten a race horse tangled in your hair clips. Whoosh.

The writing style, however, is beyond clunky. For one thing, no character ever looks at anything without being reminded of something else. People are constantly looking out windows, at paintings, at books, and at other people, while being reminded of past trips, childhood experiences, historical events and random old relationships. Can’t someone just look at a thing and see a thing, please? Or have a memory without some physical prompt? Sigh. Just a thing I noticed.

Anyway, I was interested to find that there is a good lesson for script writers in the pages of the book. There are a couple scenes in the book that are set in a classroom (in flashback, prompted, I believe, by looking at something-or-other). Our hero is laying out some facts for the reader, through the device of having a dialogue with students in his class. I find these scenes to be most problematic. The students always ask exactly the right question to prompt his next statement so that the points role out of him in the optimal order without requiring him to spout blocks of unbroken text. This doesn’t feel particularly spontaneous. The students function as cue cards and are about as cardboardy.

But here’s where I grow gentle with Mr. Brown. The truth is, this kind of scene is one of the hardest you’ll ever have to write. I’ve seen subtler writers than this one fail at it. I’ve failed at it myself. It’s hard not to. There’s even a moment in Aaron Sorkin’s special “Isaac and Ishmael” West Wing episode that has always bothered me for exactly this reason.

You remember this episode? It was the bottle episode produced very quickly, soon after 9/11, in which students asked questions of our regular characters about the nature of terrorism. Here is the exchange that bumps me:

STUDENT
You know a lot about terrorism?

SAM
I dabble.

STUDENT
What are you struck by most?

SAM
Its 100% failure rate.

The “dabble” exchange is great. I love Sorkin for moments like that. But look at the next question. “What are you struck by most?” is a very, very strange question. The asker has no reason to think Sam has an answer to it, after all. Or that the answer will be important. It’s a question asked only as the quickest possible way to get to the next point. It might, in fact, be the quickest and most elegant way out of a bad situation. It’s just a weird question, is all. The problem, I assert, is not with Sorkin, but with the nature of this kind of scene.

In a scene with lots of real characters in it – regular, recurring or even guest characters – you avoid this problem. Because even when some lines are there to set up other lines, they can still be laden with character. But in the type of Q-and-A scene I’m talking about, a number of speakers don’t have (or need or want) characters. They are there to be devices, not people. And that makes them ridiculously hard to write. You need them to be good little devices, and so they tend to sound like good little devices.

If you’ve got a ton of exposition in your spec for some reason, I would recommend finding ways to get it out without a Q-and-A scene involving a number of questioners without characters. These scenes are just too hard. Look for ways to get your established characters to pull info out of each other instead.

Lunch: shabu-shabu. Beef and veggies cooked in boiling water right on the table top. So good!

So, if I understand this internet thing, I can just swear, right? Right now, I could just cut loose with a barrage of inventive and obscene language blue enough to change the color scheme of my site? I’m tasting the freedom!

This is not the case on network television. There are rules. Now, you might think that as a writer of spec scripts, these don’t apply to you, but it’s a good idea to adhere to them anyway, just to demonstrate that you’ve got some professional savvy. Besides, joke writing is a lot easier with dirty words, and you want to prove that you can be funny without them.

Of course, if you’re spec-ing an HBO show, please, swear with abandon.

Now, you know the obvious rules. You’ve watched television. So I’m just going to talk about the ones that I find surprising. These, believe it or not, are generally considered unacceptable: Chrissakes, goddamn, non-reverential uses of Jesus, Jesus Christ, Christ.

Maybe you’re not startled by those, but I forget them all the time. I find myself typing “goddamn” into scripts, thinking of it as a fairly mild curse, as these things go. But no. “God” is fine. “Damn” is fine. “Goddamn” – go wash out your keyboard with soap! And “Jesus” as an exclamation – a fine earthy outburst that conveys a certain type of character? – nope. So watch out for these.

And here are a few delightful distinctions. On the list I have, “eat me” is listed as never acceptable, while “bite me” is fine. Interesting. And “jerk-off” is acceptable as an insult but not as a reference to masturbation – but isn’t that at the heart of the insult?

When I started out as a writer, “Oh my God” was sometimes flagged for removal, at least on TGIF shows. Some writing staffs made a practice of spelling it “omigod” — I can’t imagine it made a difference, but they seemed to think it did. Now it seems to be universally accepted.

When I wrote my first Buffy, I had Buffy’s mom say “screw you!” to Buffy. I was certain it would be removed. But, no! “Screw” is hunky-dory! Go for it! Also, “bitch” and, surprisingly, “son of a bitch” are generally allowed, although I’d be careful about these during kid-friendly, early-evening shows. And “pissed” is usually fine, meaning angry. Or drunk, if a British character is saying it.

Which brings us to exotic swearing. As long as it’s not in common US usage, you can get away with all kinds of stuff. “Berk,” “Merde,” “Scheiss” — all perfectly acceptable, although presumably sometimes bleeped when the episodes are eventually exported.

Be more conservative if you’re spec-ing an 8PM show than if you’re doing a 10PM show, since the rules do loosen up throughout the night. And study your sample scripts for examples of where your show draws the line. But, there you are. Reverential Jesus! That was fun!

Lunch: Chinese Avocado Salad from “Nature’s Pantry.” Healthy and good!

Are you all aware of the cartoon caption contest that appears in every issue of The New Yorker? It’s a pretty good way for you aspiring comedy writers to practice your punchline writing skills.

And every now and then, Bob Mankoff, the magazine’s Cartoon Editor, sends out an email to participants in which he gives more details on the entries received for a given cartoon. This is the REAL reason to enter the contest — to get those emails. I find them fascinating.

What he does is set out what he calls the the “major categories” of caption entries for a given cartoon. These are what TV writers would call “joke areas.”

In this case, the cartoon was of a pirate ship. The ship’s flag is a traditional Jolly Roger only with a happy face in the place of the skull. Think about the caption you might have submitted.

Here are the joke areas that were mined, with representative jokes for each area, as reported by Bob Mankoff. (I hope, Mr. Mankoff, that you won’t object to these being reprinted here for educational purposes.)

Jolly Roger
“Certainly it’s jolly. My concern is that it’s seen as cloying.”
“A bit TOO jolly if ye asks me!”
“Aye, matey. ‘Tis proud we are to be sailin’ under the flag of the Jolly Melvin.”

Yo Ho Ho
“Yo ho ho and a bottle of milk!!”
“Yo ho ho and a bottle of fun!”
“Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum daiquiris!”

Wal-Mart
“I wonder if Wal-Mart has good ‘burial at sea’ benefits?”
“Now that we’re with Wal-Mart, we just pillage mom-and-pop stores.”
“Avast, ye Wal-Mart shoppers.”

Flogging
“In between floggings he’s quite a cutup.”
“I don’t mind the floggings, but I wish he wouldn’t call us ‘associates.'”

Pillaging
“Then, once they heave alongside, we’re all supposed to yell: ‘Just kidding!'”
“Gone are the days of pillaging. Now all we do is tickle people.”

Mixed Messages
“I feel ambiguous.”
“He’s cruel, but fun.”
“New rule: Everybody dies happy.”

===

I find this to be about as clear a dissection of possible joke areas as I’ve ever seen. Thanks, Mr. Mankoff!

Which category did your caption fall under? Did you only think of one of the possible joke areas? Or did you jump around as you worked on it? Jumping is a good sign.

A room full of comedy writers does the same thing this email does, in a way. Someone seizes on a joke area, and then other pitches accumulate that represent the same area, and then someone else pitches a joke from a different area, and then people start piling into that area. This is one reason that comedy is written by such large groups of people — to find all the areas.

As a solo spec writer, it’s important to take the time to think of areas you haven’t found yet. Don’t just look for new ways to craft a joke around “Wal-Mart,” in other words. Instead, think of other points the joke could be making.

Lunch: onion rings and a root beer from Bob’s Big Boy

A very cool site called popgurls.com did an interview with me the other day. You can jump right to it here.

Anyway, they asked me if I had a Ten Commandments for spec writers. Here’s what I came up with:

1. Don’t spec a show you don’t respect.

2. Don’t make your spec about a guest character. Focus on the main character.

3. Get sample scripts of produced episodes. Study them.

4. Follow the show’s story structure exactly.

5. Find a story for your spec that plays on the show’s main theme.

6. Don’t write an episode that resolves the show’s mystery or consummates its romance.

7. Place the story turns at the act breaks, and give us reason to come back after the commercials.

8. In a comedy, spend time polishing the jokes, especially the last one in each scene.

9. Spelling, formatting, clarity of stage directions – they really matter.

10. Use strong brass brads.

Even with more reflection, I’m pretty well pleased with these. Maybe the thing about brads doesn’t deserve to make the top ten, but it’s not a bad list. I was interested to see that the first one is one I haven’t touched on much in this blog. About only spec-ing shows that you respect. It’s a topic that’s tricky, because sometimes there may not be a lot of choice in this matter.

For example, if you really want to be a multi-cam comedy writer, and you aren’t a fan of Two and Half Men… well, where does that leave you? With a spec pilot, I suppose.

Now, this isn’t to say you CAN’T write a show you don’t like. Once you’re hired on a staff, it’s not uncommon to have to write for a show you wouldn’t actually be a fan of. (I’ve been ridiculously fortunate in this way.) But I think if you ever find youself writing *down* — writing lines that are perfect for the show but that you personally don’t like — well, it’s hard to see how that spec is gonna sparkle.

For you drama writers too, if everyone around you is clamoring for you to write a show you don’t like, because it’s the hot show to spec, well, it’s probably best to resist. Find a show you love and do that one instead, even if it’s not the “Must-Have” spec.

Lunch: heirloom tomatoes and store-bought tabouli

I have a friend who is a wonderful screenwriter. The dialogue sparkles, the stories glisten, the jokes are sharp and the emotions strong. So what pulls me out of it every time? Apostrophes. I know it seems trivial, but I think the incorrect placement of apostrophes drives many of us crazy. Am I right? Show of hands.

Here’s the problem, of course. We all know that apostrophes mark possessives. So why isn’t “it’s toy” correct? It all seems so counterintuitive.

Well, here’s the insight that finally helped me. Think of possessive “its” as the ungendered version of “his” and “her.” Note that they don’t have apostrophes either! It’s a set! An unapostrophed set!

In fact, throw “your” in there too! Now you won’t get it mixed up with “you’re”! And… look! “Their” — that’s a possessive pronoun too, and there’s no apostrophe! Now you won’t spell it “they’re”! It’s not random! It’s consistent!

I have no idea why more teachers don’t teach it this way. I find it very illuminating.

Double check your apostrophes and other punctuation pitfalls before you turn in any spec. Crazy as it seems, it will be worth the effort. Nothing will get between the reader and the script.

Carry on.

Lunch: escargot and a butter lettuce salad. Mmmm.

P.S. I got the most wonderful note and Tshirt from Steven at the great Spamusement.com site! Thanks so much!

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